First, renegade scientists announced
they were attempting to clone a human being.

Then, President George W. Bush issued
a long-awaited funding edict on research on embryonic stem cells, which
some scientists believe hold the key to curing disease, generating new
organs, maybe everlasting life.

With the exception of abortion, no
issues so test both our faith in science and our beliefs about who we are
as human beings.

Human reproductive cloning and embryonic
stem-cell research are separate issues, but in several ways, inextricably
linked. They share a common conflict: the promise of ending human suffering
vs. the fear of plunging into an inescapable moral chasm.

Dennis Norton clings to the promise
of embryonic stem cells: A former computer programmer, he is confined to
a wheelchair with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig's
disease, a progressive and fatal neuromuscular illness. He has always loved
reading reports of scientific discoveries, but now, he says: "I have a
personal stake."

"I pray for the scientists," he says.
"I pray for their inspiration."

But Camille De Blasi, education director
for the state chapter of Human Life, points to the moral chasm: What happens
to our humanity if we destroy embryos to harvest stem cells? Can we barter
away one life to enhance — or create — another?

Embryos are tiny members of the human
family, she believes, not "property" to be used as a means to an end. And
reproductive cloning, she says, would remove human beings from "the most
intimate and enduring aspect of their nature: love."

Bush said no federal funds could
be used for stem-cell research involving the future destruction of embryos
— even "spare" embryos now frozen in fertility clinics and destined for
disposal — or for human cloning. He limited funding to research on existing
stem-cell lines, developed from embryos already destroyed.

Stem cells, in a growing embryo,
have the unique ability to morph into all the sorts of tissues and organs
the body needs. In the lab, much of that potential is unrealized, but scientists
believe stem cells offer unprecedented hope to those suffering from diseases
from diabetes to Alzheimer's. And some researchers believe that super-potent
embryonic stem cells, with their "blank slates" and ability to proliferate
enthusiastically, promise even more.

Most research on human stem cells,
except for those found in bone marrow, is in early stages, conducted mostly
on so-called "adult" cells, not those taken from embryos. But some scientists
see a magic bullet in the far future.

For Dennis Norton, it might someday
mean the creation of stem cells with his own DNA, which would then be coaxed
to grow the nerve and muscle tissue he needs. The real magic: Because these
tissues would have his genetic fingerprint, they wouldn't be rejected by
his immune system. That's the hope.

The fear is that such techniques
require a type of cloning.

Scientists and patients alike worry
that the distaste for reproductive cloning to make babies may prompt laws
that would prevent cloning techniques in stem-cell research. The U.S. House,
with Bush's approval, has passed such legislation.

Polls show that most people in the
U.S. support stem-cell research, including on embryos. But answers vary
widely based on the wording of this fact: Harvesting stem cells destroys
the embryo.

Polls also show that cloning makes
people queasy.

"It's the word," says University
of Puget Sound ethicist Suzanne Holland. "It inflames our passion — and
it should, in some ways."

But the process that theoretically
could create a cloned human is the same one that may someday create muscle
cells for Norton.

The technology itself is called "somatic-cell
nuclear transfer," or "therapeutic cloning." The procedure goes like this:
The nucleus of an unfertilized egg is removed, new DNA from a cell — such
as from skin — is inserted and an electrical charge given to jump-start
the fusion and the development of an embryo. From there, the embryo could
have stem cells harvested, and thus be destroyed — or it could become a
baby.

Unlike babies made the traditional
way, this one's DNA would come from only one person.

Cloning, which uses only one person's
genetic material, is not truly human reproduction, she says, because "it's
not a couple thing."

Brigitte Boisselier, the director
of Clonaid, one of the companies that announced its intent to accomplish
human cloning, said in a National Academy of Sciences panel earlier this
month that we all have the right to reproduce ourselves as we choose, mixing
our genes with someone else — or not.

But would that make men obsolete?
Would women demand the right to create cloned embryos for stem cells tailor-made
for a sick child? Where will it lead, Forster asks, "if we all just reproduce
ourselves?"

As society confronts the Brave New
World, several with a stake in that world wrestle with those questions.

"I would have to withhold judgment
about human cloning to create another human being, but I think it's inevitable.
You can't stop it, any more than you can stop abortions or cosmetic surgery.
And of course, capitalism will enter into it, and it'll become the right
thing to do if it earns money for some corporation."

The risks of cloning humans concern
her. "I can't say cloning's wrong. I only know it might be premature because
it may lead to people who would suffer and not lead satisfying lives."

But the use or cloning of embryos
to help produce stem cells doesn't. Existing life ranks above "potential
life," she says. "I work with adults and children who have progressive
and terminal diseases that cause distorted bodies and trouble with breathing,
and then death. Some are totally paralyzed; they can't eat or blink. Stem-cell
research holds hope for them. I would like to see an end to this suffering,
and people being alive in their own bodies."

Dr. Michael Soules, director of the
University of Washington's Fertility & Endocrine Center and president
of the American Society for Reproductive Medicine.

"I've never had a patient say, `Hey,
what about this cloning?' My sense is that there is very little, if any,
patient interest in cloning as a treatment for infertility."

The ASRM argues it is "irresponsible
and unethical" to offer "false hope" to infertile patients with an unsafe
or untested procedure.

"It would be tantamount to malpractice
to try it on humans right now. ... It's never been tried in monkeys — and
you're going to try it in humans? And have these malformed births? For
some chemist (Clonaid's Boisselier) who has no biologic experience to to
do it in humans ... they're scientifically out of their mind."

But he sympathizes with parents who
have lost a child, or couples wanting to avoid genetic diseases carried
by one partner.

If reproductive cloning could be
made safe, and if the ethical pros and cons were vetted, says Soules, "then
I would honor requests if couples didn't have undue expectations." But,
he adds, "I examine their motives."

For example, trying to "replace"
a dead child is a "false pursuit," because uniqueness comes from both nature
and nurture.

Fertility experts don't just make
babies, he says. "It is our job also to protect a child. If people are
duplicating themselves just because they think it would be neat, what's
going to happen to that child?"

Urmi Saraiya, 51. Her husband, Sunil,
a former engineer, has ALS and has been on a ventilator for six years.
He can move only his eyes and part of his mouth. Her 14-year-old adopted
son, Vishal, has Duchenne muscular dystrophy, and uses a wheelchair. Her
daughter, Devki, 20, is a microbiology student at the University of Washington.

"I'm the type of person who, if there's
a problem, I'll say, `Let's go take care of it.' So for me to see two of
the people I love most ... to not be able to do anything for them — it
drives me nuts."

She believes embryonic stem-cell
research could lead to help for her son, who has lost the use of his legs
and is slowly losing the use of his hands. But cloning for reproductive
purposes disturbs her — the engineering hubris of adding "one part of x
and two parts of y" to create the perfect child.

"It's good to have some mystery about
what each child is going to be." Yet she doesn't condemn its potential
for others. "Everybody's situation is so different."

Before they adopted Vishal, she and
her husband spent five years going through infertility treatment. "It took
an enormous, enormous toll on us. ... If you asked me the question of cloning
today, my answer would be no. But maybe at that point, I might have said
yes. I wanted another kid. If it was foolproof, yes, maybe I would have
done it."

Camille De Blasi, education director
for Human Life of Washington and director of its Center for Life Principles.

"If we really believed that we, as
human beings, are worthy and dignified because we are each uniquely created
to love one another and to be loved into all eternity by God, then we would
have no use for cloning."

But if we see ourselves as "mere
animals" whose aim is to function without flaw, "then cloning will probably
be our fate."

Cloning "violates the sacred integrity
of the human person, who is not just body, but also an immortal soul,"
she said. And it treats that person like an object — loved for his physical
attributes. It teaches parents to love their children "because he looks
just like Johnny would have, or because she is exactly the height, weight,
IQ and color that I wanted."

Dennis Norton, 56. He is a former
computer programmer and athlete, a Catholic, and an eight-year survivor
of an inherited form of ALS. His muscles will eventually waste to the point
that he'll be unable to breathe.

"Cloning? It's a political red herring."

Conservatives are counting on the
"yuck" factor, he says, invoking Frankenstein and "bumper-sticker thoughts"
that demean the real issues.

"You're taking the DNA from one person
and putting into the egg of another person. It doesn't mean you're creating
Frankenstein's monster."

He worries that the rhetoric about
human cloning will hamper or halt embryonic stem-cell research that could
save future ALS patients.

As a Catholic, he believes that life
is "a very sacred thing." But he believes a frozen embryo is only "potential
life," and that using it for research is akin to organ donation.

Therapeutic cloning could be justified,
he says, as a way to cure disease, or to prevent passing along a genetic
disease such as his own. "I wouldn't wish this on anybody. But if it's
used for anything else, then it's morally wrong."

Yet if cloning for reproductive purposes
were safe, he says the morality of using it would depend on intent: If
it were the only way to to bring children into loving household, "go for
it."

Dr. Clarence Braddock III, an associate
professor of medicine and ethics at the University of Washington.

"Many people believe that if you
create an embryo, you've created life, and to destroy that embryo for any
purpose — even research — would be wrong."

Still, the notion of cloning embryos
for harvesting stem cells strikes many as less troubling than cloning "an
entire person," he says. Most Americans support the use of cloning technology
with frozen embryos — with the couple's permission — for stem-cell research
to help people who are paralyzed or who have destructive diseases.

"I think that's a reasonable approach.
The Supreme Court said life doesn't begin until the second trimester —
that's our common, accepted definition. We allow abortion to occur before
that point. That doesn't mean everybody agrees with it, but in a society
with a wide range of viewpoints, public policy can't be held hostage to
the views of a minority."

If the government doesn't fund such
research, he says, it abdicates the ability to set guidelines.

"Then private industry will step
into the void, and you'll have biotech firms supporting stem-cell research,
not just motivated by pure scientific interest, but by the profit motive,"
he says. And private research wouldn't be made available to competing scientists,
"so the progress of development is much slower."